


After My Own Spark

by Harutemu



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-08
Updated: 2018-10-08
Packaged: 2019-07-28 08:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16238198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harutemu/pseuds/Harutemu
Summary: “Did I at least look cool?”Expression more than a little pained, Perceptor pinched his nasal ridge.“Yes Junior, I suppose you did.”In which Perceptor is roped into baby sitting. Somehow.





	After My Own Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlushLouise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/gifts).



> For the Halloween Bingo prompt "Trickery"

_Nickel, iron, cobalt, chrome_.

Honestly it was the most nonsensical part of that dratted rhyme. While abundant on Earth, only traces of said elements could be found on cybertron, most introduced by falling meteors then truly originating from Cybertron itself.

Having been a sparkeater for a time himself, the mystery of the ridiculous line made no more sense after the fact then before.

Huffing in annoyance, Perceptor raised his voice and called out for his charge.

“Junior? Junior this has gone on long enough. It’s almost dinner time. If you must continue searching for your ‘wild sparkeater’ it can wait until after you’ve eaten.” Never mind that there were no more Sparkeaters. That, Perceptor had explained in length was exactly why the story going around was impossible. How had he been talked into babysitting again?

“Junior!”

Down a nearby alleyway something shifted in the shadows, skittering and knocking the stacked debris and scrap metal. Scowling, Perceptor quickly followed, finding the hole in the wall his ward had to have slipped through.

“Junior- get out of there right now, we need to go home!” the threat he’d been prepared to issue turned into a panicked intreaty as the scent of rust and old energon wafted up from Junior’s improvised entrance.

There might not be any such thing as a wild sparkeater, but there were other things that could make a mech disappear into the night.

Pushing frantically at the weakened metal around the hole until it was large enough for him to shimmy awkwardly though Perceptor followed his wayward ward, wrinkling his nose as the scent of decay grew.

It took only a moment for his optics to adjust to the dim interior of the condemned building, the chains hanging from the ceiling and the stained floor drains taking on a more sinister meaning in conjunction to the smell that seemed to seep from the walls themselves.

“Junior, this isn’t funny, we have to leave now” Perceptor whispered frantically, his plating crawling.

A soft, familiar click had him rolling to the side, but not quick enough to dodge the laser fire completely.

“I wouldn’t get up if I were you” the warning was punctuated by the low whine of a blaster.

Perceptor raised his arms slowly in surrender, cables tensing as the stranger’s steps creaked forward. He wasn’t anyone Perceptor recognized, the glowing green visor lighting up the mech’s sneer wasn’t what you’d call forgettable.

“I don’t know who you were looking for, but you found me instead, little bot, you found the sparkeater” long, jagged dentea were flashed.

In hindsight, laughing probably wasn’t the best response.

Not that the other mech would have been merciful if Perceptor had at least pretended to cower, but at the very least it might have spared his monocle being shattered when the mech kicked him in the face.

Currently the mech was grinding his heel into the still sparking wound he’d shot in Perceptor’s back, chanting that *damned rhyme* as he did so. Loud and over-confident, he didn’t hear the soft chittering as it approached. Didn’t hear any of the warnings, until another voice joined his own.

“ _Nickel, iron, cobalt, chrome,_  
_He'll eat your soul,_  
_Turn your spark to stone_ -”

Whirling around, nearly stumbling over Perceptor in his haste, the mech gripped his blaster, snarling.

“Who’s there? Come out now or your friend suck laser-fire” the blaster was quickly pointed back at Perceptor.

Fearing he knew the identity of the other voice Perceptor tried to call out, only to have the fake sparkeater stomp down on his hand, keeping him pinned and interrupting his warning as he gasped in pain.

“ _Nickel, iron, cobalt, chrome,_  
_Run, little robot_ -”

The stranger unloaded his blaster into the corner the voice came from, lighting the decrepit factory up with each blinding flash, alien shadows writhing over the walls, fading away long before the mech stopped shooting.

Venting loudly, the stranger dropped his blaster, the last few shots little more then sparks on the weapons muzzle, having emptied the entire charge out on the voice.

“- _Run away home_.”

Jerking away from Perceptor, the mech shrieked.

The sparkeater lanky and skeletal loomed over the both of them, its mouth splitting wide in a horrifying parody of a grin. Tripping over himself the mech scrambled away, smacking into a support beam before stumbling the rest of the way out.

A low graveley sound emerged from the sparkeater’s mouth. A sound Perceptor quickly realized was laughter as noise shifted with the sparkeater’s form, thousands of tiny round bodies boiling up and collapsing, the sparkeater returning to a more familiar form.

Still giggling the little blue femme spun her rotors in mirth.

“Did you SEE the look on his face? Ha! Priceless. Kinda bummed he wasn’t an actual sparkeater though.”

Using a wall to leverage himself up Perceptor sighed. “He was, however, a real murderer. You shouldn’t have let him get away Whirl.”

“He’s not going to get far” Whirl Jr. grumbled, kicking a piece of metal petulantly. “He took some of my bodies with him. You- you’re not going to tell dad, are you?” The scraplet colony eyed the dents that marred Perceptor’s chassis guiltily.

“I’m going to have to tell him something. You did promise you wouldn’t run off.”

The scraplet colony dropped her eyes and shrugged. “Did I at least look cool?”

Expression more than a little pained, Perceptor pinched his nasal ridge.

“Yes Junior, I suppose you did.”


End file.
